Residence in Dinotopia
by CaptStarlight
Summary: This is a personal story of my arrival and subsequent life in Dinotopia, a land where people and speaking Dinosaurs live in peace togehter ;many of have written their own tale of what life would be like on this island. Be it a land of enlightenment, of adventure or of new beginnings. Whether it is for these reasons or your own, please enjoy this story.
1. Editors Note:

This is the memoir of James Webb containing habits and life on the fabled island of Dinotopia. This is a faithful and actual record of an series of adventure to a land lost to time; as well as being an absorbing historical record of Dinotopian interests and learning, it also offers much thrilling entertainment for the modern reader. Editing, therefore, has been kept to a minimum for the editors wish to keep this unique document unfiltered as to remain true to form.


	2. Chapter I: Many Beginnings

Though many years have passed, and although I have no real regrets about coming to this island. Having done many a good deed and have helped many a just and kind person, I find my thoughts often going back to my life as it could have been. I have never been a literary man, quite the opposite, what with my poor spelling and atrocious handwriting. I write this narrative for less posterity reasons and more for my own peace of mind. Yes... the memory of standing on that unfamiliar beach that cool July day is still as fresh as today. But let us take a step back, first I shall perhaps begin with the events leading up to the moments of my untimely arrival to this mysterious island all those years ago.

Leaving Sydney on the morning of the 7th on the freight cargo ship "Hannover", bound for London carrying a vast assortment of goods ranging from machine parts to novelty nick-knacks. Docking at most major shipping ports around the globe from exotic Bombay (now known as Mumbai) to Capetown and Boston including every port and harbour inbetween. I myself being a young lad of 20-something had managed to get a berth on the ship with the aim of travelling to England, having a brief stop over in the Cape being intent on seeing the world.

Being of a less than merger financial statues a paying wage on a cargo freighter was my ticket. Through several friends and many telephone calls I managed to convince a friend of a friend who was a second mate of a ship to take me as far as the Capetown. For many ships these days take the Suez passage into the Mediterranean, being of a mind that it is quicker and safer, for the Cape of Good Hope stills has a boat or two go missing into the deep now and then. Though the second mate assured me that most that go missing are small fishing boats and yachts, that the last major ship to go down was nearly fifty years ago. He forgot to mention that no ships had sunk; only two years ago a sizable cargo ship had to be towed due to being badly damaged in a storm.  
But most of these thoughts at the time were forgotten, what with the sheer excitement of going on an adventure too far off lands with strange sounding names, meeting new people and seeing new wonders. Sadly these imaginings were quickly dispelled, having already docked at three harbours so far, I have seen nothing more than the inside of a shipping agents office and briefly at that. Being confined to the galley and lower decks.

Throughout the sea voyage I merely assisted with the cook preparing meals and other cleaning duties around the vessel. During my time on board however I managed to mingle with the crew, a rough and ready bunch, who treated me kindly enough as more of a passenger than crew. The ship, as I have mentioned, was the 'Hannover', a Dutch cargo freighter in origin with only the second mate and captain able to speak English fluently with the rest speaking broken phases and words. The second mate was an English born Dutchman by the name of Hubert Perry. A nice enough sailor but a bit dull, keeping to himself most days. The ships master who's name still puzzles me, a Canees or Canis Welch, something or other. He was a stout some would say portly sized man with red cheeks and always smiling or laughing at some joke I didn't get. His duties round ship kept him busy at most times of the day so I talked little to him.

Five days had lapsed after our departure from Bombay and the start of the heavy weather. The sailing up until this point had been steady and calm, but now the ship was progressing at a snail's pace. What was worst I was confined to my dreary cabin, being prone to sudden bouts of sea-sickness. I need not tell you my experience of 4 straight days in a confine cabin badly ill, due to unrelenting rain. Suffice to say you'll understand my joy that on the fifth or 23rd day of our voyage saw a final relief with a sudden break in the weather. It seemed that the heavy weather was behind us, and I myself finally was rid of my sea-sickness, managing to go above decks and sit in the sun.

Though that cool July day was quite dreary by standards with just a grey mass of overcast clouds and blotches of sun. But it was good to just sit staring upwards, dreaming of home and a warm beach in the sun. Though the crew always kept one eye on the weather most days, the break in the storm led to a more relaxed and calm mood on board. With most men either cleaning and repairing parts broken or dislodged over the past few days, thought it has to be said many were just relaxing and joking with each other on deck in the warm sun. Even the Captain, usually busy on rest days, seemed to be enjoying himself more and napped to rest of the day. Second mate Perry on the other hand always had a cautious sway about him even on calm days, stating that, "storms come back as quickly as they go", but we payed little heed to him. But clouds were on the horizon.

Now what shocked me the most, for we had encountered storms previously in the journey, was the suddenness of it and not forgetting the sheer anger in its downpour. Being more akin to a hurricane then any storm I've been in. The wind whipped and roared on deck forcing you to hold on with your very being. Feeling the ship beneath you strain and crack against the cruel sea, felt that the world had turned upside-down and gone mad. The ship twisted and turned this way and that with every battering, helpless as a leaf caught in a downpour. Cast aside being a mere toy for a primeval god, Cruel, random and unrelenting.

Poor old Hannover, I weep for you still, her engines pounded in protest to this treatment, the water pumps failing under the massive amounts of water and debris flying all over the place. Captain Welch barking orders in some vain attempt to save the ship, but alas a rogue wave swept him and two others over board. With a pumps jammed and Captain lost, the last hope of saving the ship was gone. Suddenly lisping to one side and quickly gaining water, the order was that all hands would abandon ship and launch the life rafts.

And now I am ashamed to say that while men were bravely helping the effort to abandon ship, I hid inside a cargo container on deck. Away from the world outside and all its troubles. Now I'd like to say that I'm not a coward but I firmly believe that many a person would have done the same in such a sudden situation of confusion and doubt. There is no way of knowing how a person will act in such circumstance of life and death. You might not agree, but that is what happened on that fateful night.

However, in this moment of fear and uncertainty, fate dealt me a kind hand. One of the fastening ropes stranded and snapped at the ships sudden lisp, having been weakened by the pervious storm. Hearing nothing of the outside world other than the mournful wind and rain, I failed to hear the warning that the container was lose. Suddenly free of its fastenings, the container lurched and tumbled over the side into the cold briny.

With the world turning and spinning, I was ejected out of the container with considerable force. My shoulder, taking the brunt of the force was deeply cut on a shard of metal and bled crimson. Reeling with pain and plunging into the foaming surge left me dazed and numb. Of my time in the turbulent ocean I remember little, suffering no doubt from shock. Of what I do remember is glancing back at the ship in its final moments, of its funnel still belching out plumes of smoke as it disappeared beneath the waves. Vainly I tried to swim towards the wreak hearing men's voices shouting in the dark, but with one lame arm and that I'm not the best swimmer at the best of times, the storm drifted me further and further away.

It took me some time before it finally came to my realisation that I was lost with no hope of rescue. Forlorn in the dark swirling seas of the vast emptiness that is the Indian Ocean. Looking out onto the rolling peaks and valleys of the foaming waves, with a bright full moon lighting the darkness. This light brought me no comfort, haunting me like a great eye beading down upon me and only showing the truly desperate situation I was in. The great emptiness equalizes all

I thought about my friends and family back home, the ones I left behind. In my selfish quest for adventure, I left them to find nought but despair. I do not know how long I was on those rolling plains for, only that it seemed a life time though it may have been hours or mere minutes I could not tell as I drifted. Being alone for so long with no one but your thoughts and knowing the evitable, a sudden calmness came to me, whether from blood loss or an acceptance of my situation (I believe the latter) my thoughts on what my end would be though gruesome did not faze me in the slightest.

Contemplating these thoughts, this next part of my tale will sound like utter delirium to most people. It is possible that I was still suffering from the after affects of blood loss and shock, I must admit, at the time being half senseless as I was, I still find it hard to truly believe. Bobbing helplessly in the great ocean, I began to feel the sudden sensation of being lifted. Thoughts raced through my mind with images of great white sharks, no a feeding frenzy of sharks ripping me apart or even a whale swallowing me whole, boot, buckle and all. But with my head, with what it was, I failed to realise that I was being lifted by a friendly dolphin. Now I had heard old sailor tales of dolphins following ships and saving seamen lost over board but for it to actually happen was unaccountable.

Still believing it was a shark though, I made a vain attempt to fight it off but being so long in the water I didn't have the fight in me. But to my endless delight I was being carried instead of eaten. I don't know why, whether it was the will to live or just a reaction to hope from the unlikeliest of places, I held fast (surprisingly more difficult than made out to be). Clinging to the dolphin with the last of my feeble strength, I was now determined to survive this ordeal. Now I am not an overly-religious man but I thanked god for this and how the fates smiled upon me that day.

Joining a pod of other dolphins we made our way into morning with calmer waters, towards what I could tell was land. Realising me at the start of the heavy breakers I managed to crawl ashore with my remaining strength, coming to rest with my head on the beach. Oh, wonderful land! I will never speak ill of you as longs as I can stand on terra firma and feel you under my feet. One does not know the feeling of crawling onto blessed shore after what seemed to be a life time at sea. There is no greater feeling then plunging your feet into warm golden sand. Contented with my lot and happy to be alive, I promptly fell sound asleep.


	3. Chapter II: Terra Incognita

I awoke with a start, coming to at what seemed to be mid-morning I presently forgot my condition though I was still badly battered and bruised from last nights events. It is Invigoration what a new lease on life can do to your body and mind. I felt fitter than ever before. I tore my shirt into strips, having thankfully taken a course in first aid, I formed these strips into a makeshift bandage for my now lame arm. Making a primitive sling out of my jacket and a few sticks, my arm was now set.

Searching through my pockets I found a few merger but important items of use; my trustee Swiss army knife, $4 in coins, my compass, one hanky and my pocket watch, sadly stopped with the sea water. Stretching my legs I spotted the dolphins that had delivered me, jumping and chattering amongst each other. I cried out to them, thanking them for their service and kindness, and with that being contented that I was well presently left.

With thirst and hunger returning I now had a decision to make, was I going to continue along the beach or head inland, into what seemed to be dense vegetation? Flipping a coin I decided to try my luck combing the beach in hopes of finding a stream or some debris from the wreak. Moving East at a steady pace, I had spotted some small bushes and trees bearing fruit. But of what fruit I did find, none of which I could recognised or were of a strange colour and I didn't fancy my chances at the time. As I continued my hopes of finding something useful were quickly dispelled, finding nothing more than driftwood and plant rubbish. Sitting down under the shade of a tree, I turned away from the beach and stared into the dense greenery. Somehow expecting the jungle to suddenly spring to life and swallow me into it, but no such occurrence happened. Sensing that there was nothing on the beach for me, I stood up, dusted myself off, took up some pluck and like explorers of old, entered into the tangle of vegetation.

The beach seemed too have a band of trees then a dense mangrove forest, what was beyond I could not see. Passing into the mangroves was incredible difficult and once inside, the thickness in several parts of the forest often forced me to track back and around. Ankle deep mud slowed my progress to a near crawl and there was a foul air circling about me, one of decomposing ooze. Not forgetting to mention a seeming unending plague of insects trying their damnedest to eat me alive. Luckily for me I had remembered a trick I had read of smearing mud on your body. Working partially it kept most insects away but I smelt awful.

Heading South-East, their was a break in the mangroves from a little stream. Heading through this, I came out onto a long, thin lagoon filled with reeds, lilies and other water loving plants. By this time it was midday with the sun now beating down at its hottest and the track through the mangrove mud sapping most of my energy, I was now desperate for a drink of any water. I did what many advise against, but being of such a desperate and ravaging thirst I bent down and drank the water straight from the lagoon. The water was of the fresh type but it was far from its name shake being of a foul and unhealthy consistency, filled with bits of flotsam and jetsam but my thirst was quenched.

Now with thirst dealt with, a savage hunger came on and thoughts turned to food. Wading through reeds in knee high water, I discovered a small island of dry land with a stumpy tree bearing fruit in the shape of a mango but was of a slightly different the skin and slicing a small section off to try, and to my great delight the flesh was sweet and wholesome. Eating the rest, I quickly picked three others and scoffed them down with gusto.

Properly nourished with food and water I continued in a North-Eastern direction following the lagoon banks as it flowed out towards the sea, hoping that it would be an easier path that the mangrove laden on previously. But sadly, yet again, the lagoon petered out back into a tangle mass of mangroves. Attempting to pass this band of dense greenery I was forced further and further East ward. After several hours of hard tracking and back-tracking, I'd stumbled upon a narrow but recently used tack to my great joy. For this was the first sign of human habitation (I know now in hindsight that many animals make tracks and trails that are often ,mistaken by travellers for paths), but at the time I was faced with the decision on whether to head towards the ocean or go deeper inland with hopes of finding a settlement. Flipping my ever reliable coin, I headed inland, through the ever darkening greenery.

Trekking this narrow track for some time I was deep in thought examining my compass when unexpectedly, a rustle in the nearby bushes sent a group of strange looking birds fleeing and screeching in all directions. Halting dead in my tracks, a feeling of foreboding washed over me. My heart had jumped into my throat as I slowly turned and looked towards where the birds were circling and my first instinct was to run with images of man eating tigers or fearsome cannibals. Bursting into a sprint down I was forced the quickly slow down, as ahead the once wide track had completely disappeared into a tangle of green. Despite forcing my way through, I managed to keep in front of the beast but I could now clearly see a dark figure crashing through the undergrowth and gaining considerable ground. With the undergrowth clearing and ground becoming flatter, I could see that ahead were some sort of green plains of grass. Knowing that in the state I was in I couldn't out run the beast on open ground, I fumbled through my pockets for my knife. Fearing to look back I continued to run for up ahead were the grass plains, where I would have made my stand if not for tripping over a rouge tree stump and fell head over heels down a steep embankment. Hitting what seemed to be every rock and every root on the way down. Landing with a hard thud on the ground, I was now badly bloodied having and tore the bandages on my now rebreeding arm. I was a sorry looking figure, clothes torn to shreds, covered in mud with bleeding arm and sprawled out on the ground. Struggling to stand, I made a pitiful attempt to press on.

Coming to, at what seemed to be late afternoon. The effects of the fall and water from the lagoon were taking their toll. Breaking out in a heavy sweat and chills, I could only manage a slow shambles of a few steps. Dragging my feet, I could quite clearly tell that I had a terrible fever, with blurred vision and a raging thirst compounding the trickle of blood running down my arm. I knew it was over as I slumped against a tree and finally collapsing to the muddy ground. With no food, no water, the figure closing now upon me calling in strange screeches was the end. I was done, still gasping the knife in my hand I attempted to raise it in some gesture but the world spun around me and blurred with darkness reaching over me now


	4. Chapter III: A thousand miles away

Morning light shone upon my face, like the gentle woman's hand caressing and stirring me awake with its warm, tender touch. Waking from what seemed to be a terrible nightmare, but I soon realised that the past days events were all to real for my liking. Discovering a fresh pair of bandages on myself, I could tell I had been in a bad way for some days, being still bruised and battered from my ordeal.  
With my senses returning to me slowly, I managed to survey my surroundings as best I could. Laying in a ever-so soft feather down bed, I could clearly see that I was in the main bedroom of a small farmhouse with a further two beds opposite me. The style of the house, for I could see into the next room which seemed to be a kitchen/dinning area, would be described as last century cabin furniture, often found on tall ships. The outer walls seemed to be made of some heavy grey chiselled stone blocks, with sturdy wooden floor boards worn with the passing of many feet. The furniture from what I could see was made of solid varnished hardwood. The bed itself was made in form of a nest but with a more hexagonal approach with the same vanished hardwood style. On the furthest end of the room a small cast-iron fireplace which struck me as much more modern then the rest of the house.

Sitting up I managed to strange my way up and out of bed, which was no small achievement, discovering my leg in some kind of mechanical splint with gears and such forcing me to a slow shambles. But on entering the kitchen I could hear voices outside though I could not understand what language they were speaking. Which made me wonder where the blazes in the world was I. Thinking that I could be in Africa but that was some distance of a hundred or more miles from where the ship went down. It was entirely possible that I was in one of the small island groups dotted around the middle of the Indian Ocean.  
Contemplating these thoughts I sat down in the kitchen and helped my self to some of the purple mango type fruit on the table. Searching myself I found to my dismay that my possessions where gone as were my cloths. Realising all I had on were my undergarments and a knee length flaxen shirt./p

As I finished off my second mango I could hear the door creak open behind me. Hurriedly standing up to greet and thank my host, exclaiming thanks as I stood and turned. But I was utterly shocked and taken back from what I saw, standing in front of me was a five foot, green, scaly monster as if from the pages of some horror novel. I almost jumped from my very skin as I ran back towards the next room. Thinking on instinct I grabbed a chair with the thought of using it as a weapon, shouting at it to kept back as a lion tamer does with his chair to kept its distance.

And now, inquiring reader, this next part of my strange tale convinced me then and there that I had gone truly mad, and that I was still passed out in that godforsaken jungle. For instead of roaring or trying to eat me alive with untempered rage, it spoke to me... Not as a cruel and evil beast of prey, but in true and prober Queens English, saying simply "excuse me sir, your wounds haven't fully healed so please sit." Its voice was distinctly feminine, soft and almost dancing not at all harsh or broken but in my dismay and further shock I could not say anything in return. I simply placed the chair down, gently sat and sunk my face into my palms, shaking my head./p

Now, as I sat and shook my head back and forth like some mad man, a hand was placed on my shoulder. Looking up I could see a kindly worn face of an elderly man dressed in oilskins and jumper. He introduced himself as Wallace Barham Midshipman of the late His Majesty's Merchant Ship the Exmoor, he was an old sailor still using a combination of old English and ship terms in his speech, "No need for tharth Thir, Mis' Freyja meaths no 'arm". He continued to explain slowly but surly he was wreak on this island nearly hundred years ago, which I believe he may have over estimated for he looked more seventy then ten and a hundred, the island is also named Dinotopia. That all humans on the island are descended from shipwrecked men and women, saved in most parts by dolphins carrying people ashore.  
But possible more importantly, that no one has ever gotten off the island. Wanting to know more I attempted to press Wallace for further questions about the island only to have him reply, "Stamp and go, O my goodneth thir time. I must see thir anks befor' dark," and with that he left rushing out the door. Up until now while speaking with Wallace I failed to realise 'Miss Freyja' was still standing in the background. Still over come with nervousness I remained silent until she offered me a cup of sweet tasting tea. She continued where Wallace had left off explaining that the area we were in was named the Northern Plains, for obvious reasons, and that we were East of the town of Aliveria. I learned that she was a Dryosaurus and could speak not only English but several other languages including French, Spanish and a myriad of other 'Saurian' languages.

To describe Freyja I would begin in saying that she is just under 5 feet in height, slender arms and neck. Her general colour is a light, fresh green with a darker olive green over her head. With a purposeful grace in each her movements. But what also caught my attention, once I got over my sudden shock, it that her eyes had a soft caring look about them taking me back with thoughts of home. Freyja explained further that I had been here nearly a week with my condition was improving slowly but steadily under her watchful care. And that the storm that wreaked my ship happens only once every six year cycle, this year being quite mild compared to previous years. She continued to talk about how the storm arrives with the monsoon, but my thoughts turned to the poor Hannover and all the men lost at sea. Interrupting the seasonal cycles of monsoonal weather, I asked whether or not anyone else had been found. She assured me that Skybax teams (whatever they are?) were patrolling the surrounding beaches. But Freyja also explained that the patrols were stretched thin, what with the flooding of the area and refugees scattered.

Attempting to cheer me up me up she explained that any survivors would go to Waterfall City to register their name, in which I would also have to do the same when my arm and leg were properly healed. For it would be a long and trying journey to Waterfall. I was now in a glum mood, being the only survivor from the crew, but none the less we continued to talk about and discuss the outside world, for new arrivals were few and far between.

It was coming to late afternoon when Wallace returned from his errands. His once pristine jumper was now covered in mud and he was soaked to the bone, with dark afternoon clouds and a steady downfall of rain returning. Apologising for his sudden exit but that most of the roads had been washed away in the heavy storms, and with Wallace being in charge of the ankylosaurus teams in the area. With dinner being prepared by Freyja, Wallace's grandmother and his eldest son. The mood steady changed from dark, rain soaked afternoon to a cheerful dinner by fire light as other workers started to appear from the woodwork. Wallace himself along with four others, had left again to tend to the ankylosaurus dinner and bedding for the night. The dinner table was crowded to say the least with a total of eight people and four other Saurian's. The community was only a small one, with three houses and a large barn but in the 'Dinotopian Way' as Wallace explained, they always shared and ate food.

I have never been in a happier or livelier dinner party, what with Wallace and his friend Mitchell playing the fife and hand drum. All were talking and partaking in joyous merriment, while I was just happy to seat back and enjoy the spectacle. The meal was a hearty affair with a savoury soup, bread made of quinoar or something sounding similar. Roasted vegetables seemed to make up the bulk of the meal but the main coarse was the largest fish I've ever seen. Freyja explained that Dinotopians, as they refer to themselves as, don't eat red meat, eggs or milk. With their diet mainly consisting of vegetables, fruits and only a rare amounts of fish on special occasions. Wallace dourly explains that he doesn't mind vegetables but that, "I've not 'ad proper thood thinse Blackfish Thavern in my younger days, Thir." I merely nodded in response. As dinner started to finish with people clearing the table of plates, I went to stand only to find that my leg wouldn't bend. It would've seemed that I was stuck in a half-seating / half-standing position, looking quite ridiculous in front of everyone. Noticing my predicament, all had a jolly laugh, being so infectious I stated to laugh as well. But rocking back and forth so much my leg brace, which had jammed, suddenly let loose causing me to fall over as I continued to laugh.

Freyja kindly helped me up explaining, though the snorts and giggling, that my leg brace had come from Waterfall City direct and that it was created by the esteemed scientist Arthur Denison. Apparently providing mobility to the infirm. Though Freyja had added that it was still in the experimental phase of development. After a short while Freyja had tinkered and oiled it back to working condition, and I was gladly back to bed.


End file.
